"I bet that smell is because she's slept with half the school," Aspen muttered. "That group she's with? Definitely fake friends, and maybe undead too? All style, no soul."
Maybe Aspen was absolutely right. But if she really had tangled herself with half the student body, it only played to my advantage. No need to hold anything back, I guess.
"Probably. But I'm not interested," I lied, and walked straight toward her.
I could feel the other girls staring as I approached. A couple of them giggled. One of them actually nudged Eleanor, which I assumed was her name because it was the only one that made sense in my head.
I stopped a foot away.
She looked up at me.
And the weirdest thing happened.
I forgot my line.
Normally I'd open with something charming. Something disarming but intriguing. Something like: "Did it hurt when you fell from heaven—or was it more of a controlled descent?" Jokes aside, I completely went blank. I just stood there, swallowing dry air and trying not to breathe through my nose.
I could feel it before I heard it. Dom and Aspen were watching from a distance, already whispering about my failure.
"Ten bucks says he chokes," Dom muttered, voice drowning in the loud music.
"He already did," Aspen said. "He's just standing there like he forgot what century he's in."
They were right, of course. And I hated that they were right. Being the oldest, the most experienced, the one who's supposedly mastered the art of staying composed in any social situation, it was embarrassing. I couldn't stand just letting them watch me standing aimlessly, laughing that I'd been bricked by a pretty brat's scent.
They had no right to laugh, too. Especially not Aspen. I still remember Brazil.
He'd tried to seduce a local girl with a cigarette and his tragic smile. She turned him down so fast he ended up falling head over heels, claimed it was 'true love' and wouldn't shut up about it for months.
One morning, I walked into the flat and caught him sprawled on the couch in a floral robe, staring at the ceiling while The Girl from Ipanema played for the seventh time that hour.
"I've met my soulmate," he said, dead serious, one arm flung over his forehead like he was in a stage play. "And she doesn't believe in fate."
"She doesn't believe in you, is what you mean," Dom had shot back from the kitchen, slamming a drawer shut.
Aspen ignored him. "She had hibiscus in her hair, Dom. And a laugh like warm rain."
"You wrote that down, didn't you?" I asked, spotting the pile of napkins next to the ashtray.
He held one of the napkins up dramatically. "If love were a bird, she clipped its wings and smiled."
Dom nearly staged an exorcism that night, just to get him out of it. I still think he should've gone through with it.
So yeah. Their laughter? Unjustified.
I retreated toward the bar, with all intention to save my suave that night. Maybe a drink would settle the nerves. Maybe vodka would cut through whatever the hell that girl's scent was doing to my blood.
The bartender was lean, tanned, and way too alert for someone manning a place that looked like it catered to crypto bros and Bachelor rejects. He poured something into a short glass and palmed the ten-dollar bill so fast it disappeared into his pocket before the register ever beeped. I caught it easily, but didn't say anything. I just smirked. Not my business. Not tonight, at least.
Eleanor and her friends made their way toward the bar. They weren't stumbling, weren't giggling now. Just walking with the unbothered poise of girls who knew how to make an entrance—even when they were already inside.
She stood beside me. I didn't move. I tried to keep my gaze low.
But then—
There it was again. That scent. I could feel it digging into me like it had fingers. She couldn't be pure, not with that look in her eye. Not with the way her lip curled slightly when she scanned the room like she already owned it. If she'd been touched by half the school, as Aspen claimed, then good. Let me believe it.
Because the things that crossed my mind when I looked at her weren't things I could ever want for someone untouched. They weren't things I'd admit out loud either. Things like pushing her up against this bar, just to see what kind of sound she'd make. Or dragging my teeth—not for the bite, but to feel how long it'd take for her to beg. I'd like to think the scent didn't repel me anymore. It had me starved in all the wrong ways. And she had no idea.
I stared at her for a good second. Then another. Then way too long.
She turned her head slowly, catching me in the act. Her eyes didn't flinch.
"Can I help you?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.
"I don't know yet," I said, and regretted it instantly.
Nice. Very serial killer, as Aspen suggested.. I should try for a very normal guy in a bar.
"You've got something on your face," I added.
"Oh?" Her fingers went up to her cheek.
"Yeah. Radiance."
She gave me a flat look. "Did you read that off a drink coaster?"
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. I liked her already.
"Maybe. Or did you rather I read you a trivia from the beer cap instead?"
The girls around her burst into laughter, but Eleanor just stared at me. Not with interest or fear. It was just plain… curiosity. Like she was used to being approached and was wondering whether I was worth her time or another guy who watched too many vampire shows on Netflix, fully assuming my paleness was from cosmetics.
"I'm Toph," I said, trying to lean against the bar in a way that didn't make me look like my legs had just forgotten how to function.
"Eleanor," she replied slowly. "But you can call me Ellie. Or not. That depends."
"Depends on what?"
"On whether you're planning to flirt, bite, or ask for my star sign."
I smirked. She has no idea how close she is with two of those options.